


it feels like one of those nights (we ditch the whole scene)

by theyellowumbrella



Category: Dead To Me (TV)
Genre: F/F, Halloween, college au for absolutely no reason, needlessly fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:41:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27321373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theyellowumbrella/pseuds/theyellowumbrella
Summary: "It's kind of funny at first when it's a girl she kind of recognises from her one PoliSci class asking if she's here with "the girl in the wig," but when she's just trying to play beer pong with one of the douchey frat bros and he stops before taking his shot to ask, "Wait, are you here with Chucky girl? 'Cause like... that's kinda hot," Jen is well and truly done."oraccidentally matching couples costume au that got out of hand
Relationships: Judy Hale/Jen Harding
Comments: 12
Kudos: 71





	it feels like one of those nights (we ditch the whole scene)

**Author's Note:**

> this is not proofread and it is also no longer october in most places, including where i am, however it IS still october for maddie, who has had to listen to me be the halloween version of the grinch for the past month, so this one is for her
> 
> anyway, happy (late) halloween, i hope you enjoy !! i've lowkey realised the college au part is not a particularly necessary component to the story, like at all, so if you'd prefer to read it as a normal au, feel free

“Jen! You made it!”

She blinks, eyes widening at the sheer volume of Christopher’s voice, even over the sound of the music blasting through his speakers.

“Yup, I… sure did.” Her words taper off as she looks around the room, confirming what she already suspected to be true - she knows absolutely nobody here, save the host who is already impressively shitfaced for less than an hour into his own party. “Who are all these people?”

"Oh, just people I know from class." At the skeptical look on her face, Chris rolls his eyes and grabs her hand, tugging her further into the heart of the party. He begins pouring her a drink out of a punch bowl, and when Jen goes to take a drink of it, she winces at the strength of it. "Come on, Jen," he says. "Loosen up a little! Maybe you'll meet someone and you'll finally stop spending all your time in that goddamn studio!

"Mm, maybe," she says, mostly to humour him, before taking her first sip of the concoction Chris handed her. Eugh.

"What are you meant to be, anyway?" he asks, eyes sweeping over her.

All of a sudden, Jen feels a little insecure, standing there in her fishnets and the white dress that's just a little too short on her in these heels; she pulls her leather jacket tighter against her body. "I'm the Bride of fuckin' Chucky. Obviously."

Something unrecognisable washes over Christopher's face, but before Jen can question it, he's sputtering out a laugh and saying, "No way!" and then hollering at the top of his lungs, " _Judy_!"

"Chris, what is-" Her question is cut short by the arrival of the girl she guesses is Judy. The first thing Jen notices is the tacky orange wig on her head, the effect of it slightly dampened by the strands of brown hair peeking out the side. When she looks down, she sees the girl is wearing a pair of dungarees, legs cuffed at the ankles, over a striped sweater. "Oh, for fuck's sake."

Judy seems to be faring much better than Christopher on the sobriety front, but for some reason, she's smiling like she just won the lottery. "Oh my God! We match!"

Jen forces an awkward smile. "Small world."

"I'm Judy!"

"Jen."

Judy looks like she wants to go in for a hug, but she must sense the warning look on Jen's face, choosing instead to just shuffle forward a little bit, invading Jen's personal space in a way that has her inhaling sharply. For some reason, however, one that eludes even Jen herself, she doesn't move back - or tell Judy to - but instead just stands very still in her place, like that'll make her more comfortable.

It kind of works.

After a few moments of staring into her cup, Jen realises that Judy has been talking to her for God knows how long, mouth going a mile a minute as she speaks faster than Jen's mind can catch up with. She tries to pick up on what she's saying, but almost as soon as Jen realises she's talking to her, Judy halts abruptly mid-sentence.

"I have the perfect idea!" she exclaims, eyes lighting up like a little kid on Christmas day. "Wait here."

And then she's gone, scurrying off into the crowd again, losing herself in the sea of people.

Jen's away to slink away herself, hopeful that by the time Judy returns from whatever mission she's set for herself Jen will have managed to successfully disguise herself amongst the partygoers (and will maybe have found something to drink that doesn't smell like fucking paint thinner), when Christopher leans over, wrapping an all too familiar arm around Jen's shoulders and squeezing tightly.

"Isn't she just the cutest?"

"Jesus, Chris, you reek," she says, but when his only response is a shit-eating grin that once again shows off his glaring lack of sobriety, she doesn't bite back the smile that appears on her own face. "She's sweet."

Right as she manages to unwind Christopher's arm from around her neck and make sure he's standing on two steady feet, Judy comes bounding back over, this time with a pale pink polaroid camera hanging around her neck, looking for all the world like it belongs there more than anywhere else.

"Chris, take our picture!" she demands, removing the camera from her neck and handing it to their friend, who's all too happy to oblige, blinking several times into the darkness as if he's trying to make heads or tails of what it is she's asking.

"Oh, no that's not really-"

"C'mon, Jen, don't be a party pooper!"

Before Jen can object any further, Judy's nestling her body into her side, hand coming to rest on the small of Jen's back, and every conceivable thought disappears out of her mind instantly.

Judy's body is warm, likely a combination of the alcohol and the full fucking winter outfit she's wearing, a stark contrast to Jen's; her thumb rubs little circles on Jen's back, almost unconsciously, as if she doesn't notice she's doing it, and all of a sudden Jen can feel the thrum of her heartbeat vibrating in her jaw, buzzing away in tune to the song that's playing almost as if it's mocking her.

Jen's almost painful nonchalance doesn't seem to phase Judy, who's grinning away like this is the best thing that's ever happened to her, like she could die happily now knowing she's accidentally matched costumes with some girl she just met five minutes ago. Something about her enthusiasm tugs at something in Jen, something like intimidation - it's one thing to put up an icy exterior to everyone you meet, even your friends, but it's another entirely to wear your heart on your sleeve for everyone to see, as if they couldn't target it at any time. 

Jen thinks anyone who can do that is braver than she could ever be - not that she'll ever admit that, of course.

"Smile!" Christopher instructs, and without even having to look, Jen knows that Judy's smile is probably big enough to blind someone. Her own is small, tight, but not as forced as it was earlier.

The flash goes off and Jen fights back the urge to blink until Judy's dislodging herself from Jen's side and taking the camera back from Christopher's hands; Jen chooses not to acknowledge the way she instantly feels her absence, the way her side feels empty even though Judy was only curled into it for thirty seconds top.

No, that is most definitely a thought that Jen will only be examining very. very drunk, if at any point, although hopefully she never has to.

Judy and Christopher are awwing over the photo, but before Jen gets to see it, some girl is saying something in Judy's ear that makes her grin, and then she's being pulled away, disappearing back into the crowd again - although not before she tells Jen, "I'll come find you later! I want a dance!"

Jen stands in her spot in stunned silence for a moment, before Christopher breaks it with a pained, "Ugh, I love her. if only I were into women," which pulls a laugh from Jen and breaks her from her reverie.

Fuck it, she thinks, staring down into the cloudy drink sloshing away in her cup. This is going to be a long night, she might as well get drunk enough to either enjoy it or forget about it.

She downs her drink and drags Christopher off to dance.

* * *

She doesn't encounter Judy again for hours, but it feels like she never stops hearing about her.

It's kind of funny at first when it's a girl she kind of recognises from her one PoliSci class asking if she's here with "the girl in the wig," but when she's just trying to play beer pong with one of the douchey frat bros and he stops before taking his shot to ask, "Wait, are you here with Chucky girl? 'Cause like... that's kinda hot," Jen is well and truly done.

Fuckin' Christopher. She's starting to think he'll never realise they aren't going to fuck him the more parties he invites them to.

She's starting to consider taking off the fishnets and the jacket and just saying she's a zombie bride or something, but something tells her that the combination of her current blood alcohol level and the length of her dress without her fishnets would be dangerous.

She walks away from the beer pong table, admittedly a little huffy at the fact that the guy's question had annoyed her so much she'd thrown her shot, when she accidentally barrels right into someone, their drink splashing all over her jacket. She's just about to start cussing them out when she looks up and -

"Jen! Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" The words come out all at once, and Jen can't help but feel all her anger deflate at the apologetic tone of Judy's voice, even though her drink is currently dripping off of Jen's leather jacket and onto the floor.

"I- it's fine, don't worry about it," she tries to say, but Judy's already wiping at her jacket with the sleeve of her sweater, somehow managing to miss the affected area completely and instead just paw awkwardly at Jen's boob with a covered hand. "Judy, seriously, it's fine, it's not even real leather."

She grabs Judy's wrist, realising a second too late that her grip is too tight, thumb pressed tightly against her pulse point. "Sorry," she says, loosening her hold on the other girl, but when she looks at her, cheeks tinged ever so slightly pink, she just shrugs helplessly like she hadn't even noticed.

They stare at each other for a few seconds, but when Jen gets that heady feeling again - the alcohol rushing to her head, her vision glazing over, her heart picking up its pace just a tad - she blinks it away, dropping Judy's hand like it burns.

She might be significantly drunker than she was when they first spoke earlier, but she is still not, she decides, drunk enough to acknowledge the jolt of electricity that had run through her both times they'd touched.

"Come on," Judy says, eyes wide and innocent like a bewildered child tiptoeing around something they don't quite understand yet. "I'll help clean it up."

Judy leads the way to the bathroom, tripping over her feet ever so slightly as she does so, and Jen follows slowly behind, not wanting to get too close. It's dumb, she knows it's dumb, but she figures, if she doesn't get too close then she doesn't have to think about the fact that this girl she just met is making her feel things her drunk self can't even begin to comprehend, and quite frankly doesn't want to.

But then they're in the bathroom together, and Judy closes the door like that's a normal thing to do with someone you just met - although Jen supposes maybe it is, in fact she can't count the amount of times she's been in a situation just like this with girls she'd met only hours before, although something about this feels different, like it isn't the same as when a girl she'd met in the smoking area pulls her into the crammed single-stall toilets in the club to fix her lipstick and gossip over the sound of the club outside.

She watches absentmindedly as Judy searches through Christopher's drawers for a washcloth, eyes lighting up when she finally finds a pile resting on a shelf, but all Jen can focus on is the way it feels like the room is constricting, the air becoming stuffier and stuffier the closer she watches Judy; she gets that undeniable fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach as she watches Judy tuck her hair behind her ear, adjusting it to fit under the cheap wig, and _fuck_.

She walks over to the mirror, resting her hands on the sink below and staring hard at her own reflection. "Pull yourself together, Harding," she says to herself in what's meant to be her best whisper, but which is evidently a fail when Judy turns around at the sound.

"Huh?" Her voice is soft, much gentler than Jen's intended whisper had been, and Jen has to bite back the groan that almost comes out at herself, because she is so fucked.

"What? Uh, nothing."

Judy just smiles, eyes crinkling at the edges, and stalks over to the sink, sidestepping past Jen to run the cloth under the tap for a second. "Here," she says, stepping directly into Jen's personal bubble. She starts wiping at her jacket, muttering something to herself about how it's good that it's leather, how they're lucky she didn't spill on something that actually absorbs liquid because then they'd really be fucked. 

All Jen can focus on, though, is the sound of Judy breathing, a steady i _n and out in and out in and out,_ and the little slither of her tongue peeking out the corner of her mouth in concentration as she dabs at Jen's jacket like she'll be punished if she doesn't completely restore the condition of the fucking fake leather jacket Jen's grandma got her at Goodwill when she was fifteen.

Judy wipes the jacket down with the dry half of the washcloth and pats it down again - this time, Jen thinks, probably making sure not to accidentally cop a feel - and smiles when she finds it dry, almost like it had never been tampered with. "There," she says, pulling back and giving Jen a smile even softer than before, something Jen hadn't realised was possible. "Good as new."

Jen doesn't say anything, can't tear her gaze away from Judy's eyes and the little smile lines etched beside them, her nose and the barely-there freckles dancing across it, the blush of her cheeks under the horrible fluorescent lighting of the bathroom, and then she's staring at her mouth, the way her lips are parted ever-so-slightly, and she _knows_ that Judy can feel her staring and that she should look away, that this isn't how girls are meant to look at other girls, even one who just locked them in a bathroom together during their second interaction, but she just can't look away.

Eventually, she feels Judy's gaze settle on her lips too, and for one awful, torturous moment, she thinks that Judy might be away to kiss her when-

" _Yo_! Can you hurry it up? Some of us need to take a whiz!"

Jen jolts away automatically, broken from her trance and almost instantly embarrassed. All of a sudden, she feels far too sober to be feeling the things she's feeling, to be crammed inside a bathroom unable to tear her eyes off of some random fucking girl she doesn't even know.

"Fuck. I'm not drunk enough for this." 

She turns to leave, intending to leave Judy where she is and to get away from her so she can clear her head, maybe find a hot guy to bring some clarity to whatever's going on in her head right now, but when she gets to the door, she stops and sighs.

"Are you coming, or what?" she asks, turning back to face Judy, which is apparently all it takes to have her across the bathroom in seconds, leaving with Jen and laughing beautifully when Jen flips off the guy waiting at the door who lets out a long niiiiice when he sees them leave together.

* * *

They end up sprawled across Christopher's bed, passing a bottle of sickly pink wine between each other and drinking out of the same straw. Judy's wig and their shoes have been discarded on the floor, and as she lies on her back, staring at the ceiling fan which seems to be spinning without even being turned on, Jen finally feels the relaxation that comes with being drunk kick in.

"So, how do you know Chris"?" she hears herself ask, although she can barely feel her mouth move as she does.

"Oh, we met at his ... his choir thing." Jen laughs at that, although she's not quite sure why it's funny, and pushes herself up so she's resting on her elbows, staring at Judy. "What? What's funny about that?"

"Nothing," Jen says, her head lolling backwards onto the bed, making her laugh a little more. "I just... didn't peg you as the singing type."

Judy turns onto her side and raises an eyebrow inquisitively. "Oh, really? And what _did_ you peg me for?"

They're making eye contact again, just like in the bathroom, and Jen's got that same electric feeling running through her veins, like something as simple as Judy accidentally nudging with her ankle could set her on fire. She hates it, the way it feels like she's prisoner to this woman only hours after meeting her, like Judy could say jump and she'd ask how high. She's Jen Harding, for fuck's sake - she's the one that takes the prisoners.

"I don't know," she says, suddenly embarrassed at the fact that she'd revealed she'd made any assumptions about Judy at all, like the acknowledgement is one and the same with admitting she feels like a livewire every time Judy so much as looks at her. "I mean, I got the arty vibes but like, I pegged you for... y'know... actual _art_."

"Singing is 'actual' art, Jen."

Jen rolls her eyes. "Ugh, come on, you know what I mean. Like... painting and shit. I don't know."

And Judy laughs again, that same beautiful sound as before, and Jen thinks it was stupid not to think she'd be a singer when even her fucking laugh sounds musical.

But then Judy says, "Yeah, I know what you mean; you were right, I'm not the singing type, Chris just asked me to take some photos of them for him," and Jen curses herself for letting herself think such stupid sappy shit.

God. The booze really is getting to her.

She drops onto her back, squeezes her eyes shut and stares straight at the ceiling, focusing on the bright swirls of colour dancing across the darkness of her closed eyelids rather than the way the room feels all that warmer just for Judy's presence. It's so peaceful like this, in fact Jen feels her eyes drooping, like she might fall asleep, and she thinks that might be for the best after tonight. Yeah, that's it - all she needs is a good night's sleep, and when she wakes up tomorrow, everything will be clear in her head again, and she'll be able to chalk all this up to too much alcohol on an empty stomach.

But then Judy's rolling fully onto her side, staring at Jen with so much intensity she can feel it with her eyes closed, and asking "Jen?" in that gentle voice she has that's almost a whisper.

"Hmm?" She keeps her eyes closed, hoping that if she makes herself seem far-away enough, Judy will keep whatever it is she wants to say to herself and let Jen indulge in her dreams of this meaning nothing.

"You're really pretty."

God fucking damnit.

Against what her brain tells her to do, Jen opens her eyes slowly, continuing to stare at the ceiling for a few long moments before she has the gall to turn onto her side to face Judy. All she can get out is a pathetic, "you, too," but it seems to be all Judy needs, her eyes lighting up.

Her eyes flit down to Jen's mouth, and she swears she's getting deja vu, but there's no long, meaningful staring like there was in the bathroom. After a few seconds of looking, Judy pushes forward on the bed, hand moving to cup Jen's jaw delicately, like she's something fragile that can be broken at any time.

Jen feels like she's melting under the attention, and half of her wants to crawl under the covers never to come out again while the other half wants to succumb to Judy right there and then.

"Can I?" Judy asks, and all she manages is a dumb nod before Judy's kissing her, lips firm against hers and so fucking warm. It's chaste at first, but Judy deepens it quickly, and all Jen can focus on is the fact that she doesn't know what to fucking do.

It's not like she's never kissed anyone before, of course it isn't, in fact not even like she's never kissed a girl before, but she knows for a fact she's never felt like this before, and she doesn't have a fucking clue what she's meant to be doing. Her senses are overwhelmed - Judy is _everywhere_ , her hands and her lips and her hair all touching Jen in some way, and if she felt like she couldn't breathe watching Judy from across the bathroom she thinks she might be dying now.

She gets used to it, slowly, heart rate coming down just that little bit the longer they spend kissing, but she finds herself mentally catalouging every single second of it, everything she can feel and hear and see, as if this moment might be snatched from her at any time and turned into nothing but a hazy memory.

At some point, she rolls Judy over so that she's hovering kind of awkwardly over her, shaky hand making its way to the strap of her dungarees. Judy's still kissing her, but as soon as she feels Jen unsteadily try to pop one of the buttons out, her hand comes up to cover hers, stopping the motion. "Mmph," she says as she pulls out of the kiss, "no, no, don't."

Jen stops, mortified. "Fuck," she says, face burning red, although how much of that is from the embarrassment she can't be sure. "Sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

Judy laughs again, all quiet, and Jen can't quite figure out where the humour in the situation is, if she's being honest. "No, Jen, it's not- it's not that I don't want to." She reaches up for another kiss, and Jen's not sure if she imagines the way her eyes darken or not. "Trust me, I want to. But we... are really drunk."

Jen huffs a sigh of agreement. "Yeah we are."

"And you... are tired. Don't think I didn't see you practically falling asleep earlier."

Jen thinks that's a little unfair, considering sleep has been the last thing on her mind since the minute Judy nudged her out of her ceiling trance and forced her awake, but she doesn't say anything against it.

"And when we do..." Judy says, her voice heavy, and for the first time Jen doesn't try to tamp down the butterflies that inevitably come. "... I really want to remember it."

"Yeah, me too," Jen breathes out, so quiet she barely even hears herself.

"So, I think we should go to bed, and tomorrow you can buy me breakfast to save me from the fuckin' horrendous hangover I'm bound to have from that wine."

"Hey, why do I have to pay?"

"Because you're the one that stole the wine."

Jen rolls her eyes, but she doesn't fight it, and as they both get up off the bed and crawl under Christopher's covers together, she doesn't think about the party still raging on outside the bedrooom door, or how pissed Chris is going to be when he tries to go to bed later, or the way that in the span of a few hours Judy has managed to completely challenge everything Jen thought she knew about herself, but instead about nothing else but the warmth of Judy's body pressed against hers, and the kiss she presses into Jen's neck before falling asleep.

She can deal with the rest of it tomorrow. 

**Author's Note:**

> pls leave reviews it gives me life
> 
> you can find me on twitter @SWlFTCOMS if you want!! (the L is a capital i) thanks for reading :D
> 
> title is from 22 by taylor swift (obviously)


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